


197. Playing God

by tveckling



Series: Dare to Write challenge [23]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, I do like Friar Lawrence, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:30:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7721827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To see oneself above human conflicts is to deem oneself God, and that is a a hubris that will not be tolerated. This is a lesson Lawrence learns with much bitterness and guilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	197. Playing God

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ambrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrose/gifts).



Lawrence put down the quill and rubbed his tired eyes with an ink-stained hand. Outside the sky was quickly darkening, making his task harder. The candle next to the tome he was writing in was burning steadily; soon it would be too dark for him to be able to continue, even with the light. His brothers had retreated some hour earlier, shortly after dusk, but Lawrence had stayed behind. He was always the first to start writing and the last to stop. The others had learned to simply let him be.

After the bodies had been buried Lawrence, among others, had been put on trial for his part in the lovers’ demises. He would not have objected to any punishment, no matter the severity, but in the end he had been cleared of any wrongdoing, both in the public court and by the church. His plan, although peculiar and ill-advised, hadn’t ultimately been the cause of the deaths; if his letter had reached Romeo as planned it would have gone off without much of a hitch. 

Even with those results Lawrence hadn’t felt relieved. Everything in Verona reminded him of the youths whose lives had been lost, and he saw Romeo and Julia in every boy and girl who walked past holding each other’s hands or sharing a besotted smile, saw Mercutio in every child with a wide smile and twinkle in their eyes, saw Tybalt in tightly guarded faces and hands resting on swords. Lawrence might have been acquitted, but his guilt remained. If he hadn’t played god and thought himself above the conflicts of humans they would all still be alive. 

He had moved from Verona shortly after, unable to stand the memories that haunted him. The monastery was small and located in a desolate spot on the coast where people rarely visited. All in all there were about twenty monks living there, taking care of the building, praying, helping the lone wanderer, and translating bibles. It suited Lawrence very well. 

There had been a few letters sent to him from young Benvolio, but Lawrence had had them sent back unopened. He couldn’t handle anything the youth might write, no matter if it was anger, blame, or forgiveness. Especially forgiveness. 

Lawrence closed his eyes and shook his head. With quick movements he grabbed the quill again and put the tip to the parchment, leaning forward. The candle would last for at least one more hour, and he could get much done in that time. The more he worked the less he thought, and his head was full again.


End file.
